


Till The End

by Nununununu



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Absent Characters, Alternate Universe - Battle Royale Fusion, Don't copy to another site, Horror, M/M, Original Character Death(s), Survival, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:47:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23973994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nununununu/pseuds/Nununununu
Summary: Poe is out there somewhere.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Finn
Comments: 6
Kudos: 23
Collections: Three Day Rental: A Horror Themed Flash Exchange Round 1





	Till The End

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Val_Creative](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/gifts).



> For Val_Creative, inspired by the film Battle Royale (2000).
> 
> Trigger warning for a brief, non-graphic reference to suicide.

Poe is out there somewhere.

The rain pours down from the incessant clouds wreathing the tiny moon, so small the horizon seems dizzyingly near. Beyond the clouds there is a force field, Finn knows, trapping them in. The buzz it emits is always present however he strains to ignore it, an incessant whine drilling deep into his brain.

It is hard to think. He has a bag with a torn strap, a bottle with an inch of dirty water, a single stale ration bar and a long-handled vibroknife.

He has had to use it three times already now, the knife.

He is crouched within the hollow centre of one of the densely thorned bushes the moon is dotted with, blood trickling down his arms from deep scratches he barely feels as he allows himself a crumb from the ration bar, a pebble to roll around in his mouth after in the attempt to allay nagging thirst, and the bag spread out on his knees.

On the inside of the bag, he is hastily updating a sketch he’s made of the moon, with the rough end of the handle of the vibroknife dipped in a tar-like puddle he’s found. Marking the last known positions of the other captives he’s spied or encountered, dead or alive.

Finn refuses to think of them as the enemy.

The _First Order_ is the enemy, the First Order who gassed and collared them, and left them all here with instructions to kill one another –

Some of the other captives were given maps. Some were given tools so useless it can only seem like mockery. Finn is aware of the grey featureless drones flying overhead every sixteen minutes; he timed them automatically, back at the start. Sometimes there is a localised explosion as a collar goes off when the drones shoot someone who tried to escape or resist killing someone else, or attempt to kill themselves instead.

After two and a half days of this, he can understand how it seems the easiest option.

Finn is not about to take the easy option. He is going to find Poe. They were together when their X-Wing was attacked, they were deposited together here on this moon, they were accidentally separated when the carnage first began, and –

Finn is going to find Poe.

The whine of the force field up above vibrates in his teeth. An unexpected slow slosh of _something_ beyond the thorn bush sends a skitter of sensation chasing over his skin.

Someone is walking out there, or trying to. Dragging a foot, perhaps. Dragging someone else? No, the drones would have killed them if a pair tried to help each other. Finn is therefore going to have to find a way to disable or, preferably, destroy the drones as well as finding Poe.

There is a metallic scraping; a hissing burst of red sparks. The sight of them in Finn’s peripheral vision, beyond the sharp thorns, makes memory burst into his mind, the ghost of pain explode along the length of his back.

He has no time for such remembrances now. No way of knowing if the person out there is wounded; pretending to be wounded; armed with a crackling lightsaber; armed with a broken red flashlight –

If the person out there is _Poe_ –

The first time Finn had used the vibroknife, he had hit hard enough with the handle for it to seem like a killing blow, barely falling short of cracking their skull. It had been in self-defence, but poorly done – he had timed it between drone flyovers in the hope of succeeding, but the explosive in the person’s collar had gone off as they fell.

The second time, Finn had killed as a kindness and only just survived the favour. He isn’t thinking on it.

The person outside the thorn bush is still approaching – dragging a broken leg or dragging a heavy weapon? The buzz from the force field fills his ears; he can’t _think_ –

The third person he had killed had been a necessity; Finn bears the bruises on his upper arms and shoulders and the deeper, nastier wounds elsewhere to show for it. He had rammed the knife into their collar in the end, only just ducking in time to avoid being taken out by the blast himself.

He digs his fingernails into the meat of his palms to lessen the urge to claw at his own collar. The hard rim gouges into his throat when he swallows; the light emitting from it, indicating the bomb’s presence, concealed by a scrap torn from his shirt.

When he and Poe disable the bombs, tear down the force field and confront those amongst the First Order responsible for all this –

When he and Poe –

The unknown person – is it even a person? – is almost upon his position. Perhaps they have identified his presence. Perhaps they too are considering the thorn bush a good place to crawl inside.

Perhaps they are going to set fire to it somehow. Perhaps –

Perhaps, perhaps.

Finn is tired of not knowing. Moving quietly, efficiently, he places the remains of the ration bar and the water bottle inside the bag. Holds the vibroknife in his hand, ready to use either the handle or the blade. Ignores the prick and drag of the thorns against his skin as he painstakingly backs out of his hiding place.

The rain is still continuing, the taste of it foul. The sloshing sound the other person was making has stopped. He sees the red sparks again out of the corner of his eye.

Finn has an objective. He is going to save anyone possible; he will resist killing if possible likewise. He is going to find a way to destroy the drones and the force field, and bring his grievances about this situation to the First Order. In fact, he will bring _all_ of his grievances to the First Order – it may take a while.

But first he is going to find Poe.

Arming himself with the memory of the last time Poe kissed him with his hands on Finn’s cheeks; grinned at him and bit his lip; glanced back at him with that lock of curling hair forever falling in his eyes –

“All right,” Finn pledges to himself, to Poe, to the unknown person out there, “We’re going to do this.”

He stands.


End file.
